


Experimentation

by ydysprosium



Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, M/M, Mad Scientists, Metahumans, Minor Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Predicament Bondage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ydysprosium/pseuds/ydysprosium
Summary: Dick finds out there's someone who is offering quite a lot of money for his capture. Someone who's convinced Dick is a meta, and he might possibly be right.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, instead of writing sequels or finishing my WIP, there's this. Enjoy. :)

Dick stripped off his Nightwing suit and collapsed onto his couch with a sigh of relief. He had probably been working himself too hard lately, but it was easier. Easier than having to think of all the reasons why he was living in New York now. He opened a bag of chips, and wondered if he had any cheese sauce leftover in the fridge. Cheese sauce and chips counted as a full meal, right? Dick thought so, though his stomach gurgled in dissent as he hauled himself up off the couch and found a jar half full of cheese sauce that was turning an unusual color. He wanted nothing more than to veg out in front of the tv with his meal, then pass out in his bed, but unfortunately there was an open bounty on Nightwing that he had to keep an eye on. It really wasn’t that unusual for there to be a price on his head, but this one had caught his attention since it was very specific about wanting him alive, and the price was high enough that someone competent might actually take it up.

In any event, it was unusual enough that he spent time lurking on dark web villain chat rooms just to get an idea whether or not he needed to prepare for an attack.

So far it seemed to just be the regulars, (half of which were likely Bats or Justice League members), commenting on the price increase, and whether they’ve seen Nightwing around.

NotaFed: Hey has anyone seem Nightwing lately? I heard he was in New York now, but who knows

DarkAlvin: I thought he was still in Bludhaven

NotaFed: Bludhaven’s still a toxic waste zone, no way he’s there

DarkAlvin: That’s what he wants you to think…

Dick sent a quick text to Tim: _Get off my hit page on the dark web, Red Robin_.

Tim texted back: _It’s up to $10 million now. The money is from Lex Luthor, but not officially associated with him. Are you being careful? Bruce says you can come back here and stay for a while._

Dick grimaced: _Yeah right, and get benched by Bruce? Pass._

Tim texted back: _Okay, he’d totally try to do that. You could always patrol anyway. Damian worries about you, even though he would never admit it._

Dick sighed. It might be good to spend some time with his family, though he was 100% not in the mood to deal with Bruce. _I’ll think about it_ , he finally texted.

Tim texted back: _Great! I’ll get the game system set up for three players._

\--

Dick woke up the next morning and had a bowl of cereal with water, since he was out of milk. He sighed as he tried to decide whether to go grocery shopping, or just head back to Wayne Manor. He’d head over tomorrow maybe, and just get takeout for the rest of today.

Patrol was uneventful for the most part, though one of the people Nightwing saved insisted on buying him a pizza (and Dick was too tired and hungry to turn him down). He sat on the rooftop, eating the greasy slices. It was the perfect combination of gooey cheese, andouille, and pineapple, and Dick soon found himself polishing off the last piece as he watched the traffic and flickering lights on the street below. 

In retrospect, Dick probably should have been paying more attention to his surroundings, especially with the hit on him. But there were very few goons for hire who would be a threat to him, and one of them owed him, or at least in Dick’s opinion Slade owed him after the disaster in Bludhaven.

But apparently Slade didn’t agree, and Dick sighed as he heard heavy footfalls on the roof behind him.

“You’re getting sloppy, Nightwing,” Slade said from behind him. “Working yourself too hard?”

“And you’re getting sloppy if you think you can capture me on a random rooftop,” Dick retorted, readying his grapple. “Or did you just stop by to warn me about the contract, since you owe me after Bludhaven?”

Slade made a scoffing sound. “I’ve never owed you anything. But if you want to think that way, I’m doing you a favor by bringing you in now, before things get more serious.”

“Pass,” Dick said, keeping his grapple ready, but curious enough about what Slade had to say that he didn’t jump yet.

“I’m sure you already know that Luthor is involved,” Slade began.

Dick mimed yawning just to try and see how much he could annoy Slade.

“But the scientist in charge of the contract has made some interesting advances in meta research. Enough that Luthor gives him free reign. And he’s figured out your civilian identity. Not that it’s hard. Moving around and playing hero makes things quite obvious. And your ex-boss wasn’t the only person who could connect the dots when you get injured.”

Dick scowled. This complicated things a lot, and narrowed his choices down to going with Slade, dropping off the face of the Earth, or hiding out at Wayne Manor.

“So you can see your options are limited,” Slade said, and his voice sounded so smug that Dick wanted to kick his teeth in, then drop them through one of New York’s nastiest sewer grates.

“What does he want with me?” Dick asked. Maybe it’d be something easy, like a blood sample. Though for $10 million, he doubted it. “I don’t have any powers, so he might as well get any random person off the street.”

Slade shrugged. “He’s convinced you’re a meta, lots of people think so, you know.”

“Well, he’s in for an expensive disappointment,” Dick snarked. “Did anyone try explaining to him that some heroes don’t have special powers?”

“Not my problem if he’s wrong,” Slade said, voice tinged with amusement. “Besides, he makes a convincing argument. He thinks you’re a meta whose powers haven’t completely manifested yet, and the incident in Bludhaven is what had him convinced.”

“Batman already genotyped my DNA,” Dick retorted, because of course Bruce had, and without Dick’s permission, but Slade didn’t need to know that. “I don’t have any meta genes.”

“That either of you know of according to current research,” Slade said. “You have to admit, there’s at least a possibility he’s right.”

“And so, what? He just wants to test my DNA and see if I’m secretly a meta? Why hire mercenaries then? Why not just ask me to drop by?”

“I hope you’re smart enough to figure that one out on your own,” Slade said, making a dismissive sound and stepping closer.

Dick glanced down, at the buildings and street below, then back at Slade. He knew the obvious move he needed to make to leave now and get out of this situation, but if the evil scientist knew his identity, well, he couldn’t exactly run to his family and endanger them. And even if he could spend the next six months in a different identity, he didn’t really want to. “What happens if I don’t go with you,” he whispered.

Slade shrugged, but continued moving closer. “The reward increases, eventually it includes your civilian identity.”

Dick bit his lower lip. “And what if I go with you, to give him a blood or tissue sample, or whatever he needs to prove I don’t have meta genes?” Perhaps a ‘disappoint the evil scientist’ strategy would work. Dick could always escape later if the scientist was unreasonable, or in the unlikely event he actually was a meta. He hoped.

“Then it’ll be an easy night for me,” Slade said with a low chuckle. “Though you might not want to jump to conclusions about not being a meta just yet.”

Dick sighed, letting his body relax. “Fine, I’ll go, might as well get it over with.” And as much as he hated Slade, it was just so much easier to rely on his connections, and Dick was tired. “Just give me some time to contact my family first,” he added, hopefully Tim would even have time to start tracking him. But unfortunately, because Dick had absolutely no sense of self preservation, he couldn’t help quipping: “Do I get half of the reward money if I go willingly?”

“Thank you for reminding me how annoying you are,” Slade said, roughly grabbing Dick’s shoulders.

“Hey, there’s no need to-” Dick started, as he felt the prick of a needle at his neck. “Dammit, Slade,” he slurred, falling to one knee as he felt numbness run through his body.

“No hard feelings,” Slade said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “It’s a long journey, and it’ll be easier if you’re unconscious. More peaceful for me at least.”

Dick tried to tell Slade what he could go do with himself, but the drug worked fast, and he soon slipped into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evil Slade is evil.

Dick woke with a massive headache, trying to remember what had happened for a moment as cuffs dug into his wrists, and the vehicle he was in lurched forward, slamming his blindfolded head into the back on a seat. Oh yes, Slade had “kidnapped” him for money, and Dick hadn’t even been given time to contact Tim or Bruce first. 

Dick groaned as the car hit another bump, jostling him, and pulling uncomfortably against the cuffs. It was just like Slade to go all out when they could have just had something more like a road trip together. On second thought, he probably would have annoyed Slade with all the questions and talking, so maybe that explained the strong-arm tactics. “Slade?” he called, unsure if the man was still transporting him, or if he’d already been handed off to the evil scientist’s goons.

“I figured it would wear off early,” Slade grumbled from the front of the vehicle as it slowed down. “Keep it down unless you want to be gagged or dosed again.”

Dick stuck his tongue out even though he knew the man couldn’t see. He listened attentatively to the sounds outside the vehicle, trying to figure out where they were. “Hey, are you going through a drive-through?” Dick asked when he heard the faint sound of someone giving a fast-food order ahead. “I’m pretty hungry, I could go for a cheeseburger and fries myself. Or chicken nuggets and a milkshake, I’m not picky.”

“Shut up,” Slade growled as he pulled up and ordered one coffee, one fortified milkshake, and one egg and sausage breakfast sandwich.

Dick remained silent as Slade order and received his food. As much fun as it might be to mess with the man, a minimum wage earning food service worker didn’t deserve to have to deal with an overpaid mercenary transporting a kidnapped vigilante this early in the morning. At least, Dick assumed it was early morning from the increasing amount of light and chirping birds.

“Are you going to pull over and eat? Which one’s mine?” Dick asked after Slade had closed his window and driven off. He was hoping for the milkshake, but the breakfast sausage smelled heavenly as well. A small logical part of his brain pointed out that it was a bad sign that Slade had ordered one of each.

“No, and no,” Slade said. There was the crinkling of greasy paper unwrapping, and then the sounds of Slade eating the breakfast sandwich. 

“What?” Dick was hurt. How dare Slade make ten million on him and not even buy him a fast food breakfast. “Are we stopping some place else? Because I don’t know if you figured it out, but I’m hungry, and eating food keeps me quiet.”

“I have two other ways of shutting you up,” Slade grunted from the front. “And no, I can’t feed you, that was part of the request.”

“Even if the guy thinks I’m a meta, I still have to eat,” Dick whined. “One of my friends who is a meta actually needs to eat more than regular humans.” 

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Slade said with what sounded like sadistic humor.

“Why can’t I eat anyway? Is he planning a giant dinner party and afraid I won’t be hungry? Newsflash, I can always eat more.” Dick knew he was risking Slade taking drastic measures to shut him up, but the risk was worth it, and his stomach grumbled in agreement. Besides, it was impossible to ignore Slade basically eating in front of him.

“He probably had something planned right away that requires not eating beforehand,” Slade said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. And because he was especially evil, he took a long sip of the milkshake.

Any way you looked at it, some evil experiment that required Dick to fast while being kidnapped was foreboding in all the wrong ways. “But doesn’t he need to run tests first to find out I’m not a meta?” Dick asked. “Wouldn’t be easier to just let me eat until he’s sure he needs to do something that he’d need to starve me for? And he’s still going to let me go when he finds out I’m not a meta, right?”

“I just do what I’m told, I don’t ask questions, especially when the pay is good,” Slade grumbled from the front again. “You on the other hand, are free to ask him when we get there, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut up until we do.”

Dick was rarely intimidated by Slade’s threats, especially not when the man was already kidnapping and starving him. “How close are we to his secret lab? Will it be much longer?”

“We’re less than halfway there,” Slade growled. “And unless you want to be less comfortable for the rest of the trip, stop being annoying.”

By Dick’s estimation, it had been around seven hours since Slade had started. Which meant he had to spend the next seven hours or more listening to Slade eat and drink while he languished in the backseat, handcuffed, blindfolded, and starving. Maybe he would be better off annoying Slade into sedating him again. “So it’s at least 14 hours away from New York?” Dick asked. “Is the lab somewhere outside of Metropolis, or is it hidden out in the middle of nowhere where no one would ever think to look?”

Slade sighed. “This is only going to be as miserable for us as you make it,” he warned.

“So, knock me out then,” Dick said, placing his feet on what he assumed was the back of the driver’s seat. “Or are you limited as to how many knockout drugs you can give me right before you hand me over?”

“I’ll be glad when you’re someone else’s problem,” Slade grumbled, but didn’t answer any of Dick’s questions.

“You’ll get paid less if you drug me again, won’t you?” Dick asked, feeling smug as figuring it out. He still had a miserable ride ahead of him, but at least he could annoy Slade to his heart’s content. He kicked the back of Slade’s seat a few times, building up power as he stretched his cramped muscles.

“Any more of that nonsense, Grayson, and you’re about to be very sorry,” Slade warned.

Dick smirked and continued kicking Slade’s seat. “If you still have more than seven hours to drive, you could probably feed me. I think I deserve it after you ate in front of me. Unhandcuff me too, and I’ll be quieter. Unblindfold me, and I could take a turn driving.”

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Slade growled through clenched teeth as he slowed down and pulled over.

Dick felt vaguely like a misbehaving kid as Slade parked the vehicle and slammed his door open. He didn’t have it in himself to feel guilty over deliberately annoying Slade. The man deserved it. Then Slade was grabbing his hair and wrenching Dick’s head around.

“Ow, Slade,” Dick complained, then felt a stinging pain as Slade hit the side of his head, and pressed a bulky gag into his mouth.

“Bad birds need to learn how to shut up,” Slade said, then shoved Dick down lengthwise across the seats, and snapped a pair of restraints on his ankles. “Maybe this will teach you,” Slade continued as he rolled Dick onto his stomach. Dick shouted into the gag as Slade smacked him across the ass and thighs a few times. It hurt, even through the suit, and worse it was humiliating to have Slade smack him like a misbehaving child. Dick’s face heated up as he felt the stinging pain grow into an uncomfortable burn as Slade continued the punishment. Then he stopped, and rolled Dick back up and buckled him in. “Behave,” Slade said, then slammed the door and stomped back up to the driver’s seat.

Dick felt tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. He was hungry, tired, and uncomfortable, and there was still a long journey ahead, and then who know what fate awaited him at the lab. He allowed himself to cry silently for a few moments, then leaned back and tried to occupy his mind with different problems.


	3. Chapter 3

Dick felt miserable by the time they arrived at their evil lab destination. He was tired, hungry, he was starting to feel gross inside his suit, and his muscles were cramping. Fortunately or unfortunately, he was also dehydrated, which meant that Slade only had to help him pee in a cup once, but now his mouth was dry and he was feeling light-headed. He could hear the sounds of insects and birds as Slade opened the door and considered him. Dick’s guess about the lab being in a remote area was probably true. It was late evening, and the air felt warm and humid.

Dick flinched when he felt Slade’s hands holding something cold and hard near his throat. It was too long lengthwise, and had too much give to be a gun. There was a clicking, then the material circled his throat, and Dick realized with a sinking feeling that it was a collar. “Mpprgh,” he protested.

“I almost forgot about this,” Slade said as he checked the tightness of the collar. “It’s just a precaution, but Dr. Bayer wanted you to start out with a suppressant collar in case your abilities manifest unexpectedly.” His voice was insufferably smug. “I always did think you’d look good in a collar, Grayson,” Slade leered.

Dick felt his face heat up. He and Slade had a weird relationship. Not quite frenemies with benefits like Midnighter, more like frenemies with sexual tension. Though whether Slade was a frenemy or enemy really depended on who he was working for at the moment.

“You’re probably less trouble if I carry you in,” Slade mused, hauling Dick to his feet, and lifting him around the midsection, then balancing him securely on his shoulder.

“Mmph,” Dick said, offended at still being gagged (and collared, and handcuffed). Slade didn’t mess around when he was in one of his moods. You’d think the guy could put up with a little chit chat for ten million dollars.

Slade grunted as he adjusted to Dick’s weight. “Don’t worry, you can be back to your annoying self once I drop you off,” he said.

“Mmph?” Dick asked, since he couldn’t quite ask the details of whether his new captor would unhandcuff him or remove the blindfold, or even feed him, though Dick hoped he wouldn’t be staying here long.

“I’m sure he’ll let you talk to your heart’s content until he realizes how annoying you are,” Slade said, as though he understood what Dick had been asking.

Dick just made an indignant sound, then tried to relax as he heard Slade’s footsteps echoing down a hall. They went down a flight of stairs, and turned into another hall, though Dick wasn’t sure of the direction. Then there was an electronic beeping, and the whoosh of a door opening. It felt colder in the room, and Dick shivered.

“I fulfilled my end of the contract,” Slade growled, dropping Dick down onto a metal surface.

“Excellent,” an unfamiliar voice answered. Dick flinched as he felt pudgy fingers poking at his back. “He seems to be in good condition too, excellent work Deathstroke, you were well worth the price.” Dick felt the fingers lingering by his collar, then moving over his gag, and towards the blindfold. “Is he so much trouble that he needs to be gagged though?”

“He talks too much for my taste,” Slade said. “And he knows exactly how to be annoying when he’s hungry.”

The man chuckled. “So he hasn’t eaten or had an extra dose of sedative in over fifteen hours?”

“No.”

Hands tugged on Dick’s blindfold, and he squinted his eyes, adjusting slowly to the brightness of the room. There was a moment of fear, as Dick realized his mask had also been removed, but quickly subsided as he remembered the man already knew who he was.

“Excellent, I’ll make sure Luthor gives you the bonus.”

Before he could even get acclimated to his new freedom, Dick was pushed back against the metal table, and straps were tied down as the handcuffs were removed across his arms, thighs, knees, and ankles. After he was secured, the gag was slowly removed from his mouth. Dick tried to speak, but all that came out was a dry cough.

“He might be a little dehydrated too,” Slade added, with a sound of amusement in his voice. He was in full gear, mask and all, so there was no way to see the man’s expression even as Dick’s vision adjusted.

“That hardly matters,” the man said, shrugging as he picked up a weird long pointy metal tool to prod at Dick’s suit. Dr. Bayer was short and balding, and had the soft physique of someone who likely spent all their spare time in a lab. At least overpowering him if needed would be no effort if Dick managed to get free. “I’ll have one of my technicians add a little extra saline to his mixture.”

Dick grimaced and swallowed. “Hey wait a minute,” he said, feeling his voice come out dry and scratchy. “I thought you were going to test whether or not I’m a meta first before you start with all the mad science.” The lab was clean and sterile, with lots of gleaming metal surfaces. It looked like a dentist office combined with a spaceship.

Dr. Bayer waved his hand dismissively. “We already did. Deathstroke overnighted a vial of your blood, it got here before you did. Congratulations, you have five inactive meta genes.”

“Wait, what?” Dick struggled to glance up at Slade, a hurt look on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me about that, when did you know?” When Slade didn’t answer, Dick turned back to the scientist. “There’s got to be some kind of mistake, I’ve been genotyped before, there weren’t any meta genes found.”

“There were no _known_ activated meta genes at the time you were tested,” Dr. Bayer said condescendingly, “there’s a difference. Don’t worry, we’ll help you activate your genes. One of them was already partially activated by all of your radiation exposure in Bludhaven.”

Dick felt himself begin to panic. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, he wasn’t even sure if he believed the man, maybe it was all made up, and excuse to experiment on him. “Is it true?” he asked, struggling against the straps holding him down, and looking over at Slade, who was watching him impassively with folded arms.

Slade let out a short unkind laugh. “Do you really think a meta researcher would pay ten million for you if you weren’t a meta? Even with Luthor footing the bill?”

Dick slumped back against the table feeling defeated. He had been overworked, and overtired, and made a dumb mistake not leaving the second he saw Slade. Hopefully Tim would have enough information to track Dick down, eventually. He knew Slade had already deactivated the one tracker in his suit (and Dick had deactivated or removed all the others last week, when he was feeling particularly angry at Bruce). In the meantime, things were about to suck. A lot.

“I’ll have one of my technicians get started with the procedure,” Doctor Bayer said, though with the ways his eyes were fixated on Dick, he seemed reluctant to leave the room. Just great, Dick thought sarcastically. Another member in his collection of middle-aged creeps. “Don’t worry,” he said, patting Dick’s cheek. “You’ll be well-cared for or people will be fired.”

As if on cue, a man with long messy brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail entered the room. He had some scraggly facial hair on his face, and he didn’t seem to be as dangerously fixated on his job as Dr. Bayer. His posture was more along the lines of average goon for hire who needed the job.

“Whoa, is that Nightwing?” he exclaimed, taking in Dick’s suit and letting out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Fred!” Dr. Bayer snapped. “Remember why I’m paying you such an exorbitant salary? Get to work. The regular protocol, but give him some extra saline.”

“Uh, yeah,” Fred said sheepishly, then unlocked the table, and began pushing it towards a smaller room on the far end of the lab.

“You really do get what you pay for,” Dr. Bayer muttered as he left the lab with Deathstroke, presumably to pay the man.

Dick counted the tiles on the ceiling as he was pushed into the smaller room. Hopefully building a mental map of the place would be useful eventually, but in the meantime, it gave him something else to focus on, other than being someone’s newest science project. Windows lined the smaller room that Fred wheeled the cart into, and it felt a few degrees warmer inside. Cabinets filled with medical supplies lined one wall, and there was a freezer adjacent to them. 

“I have a cousin who lived in Bludhaven,” Fred said, reaching into the freezer and pulling out a packet of purple liquid. “Really neat all the things you did for people there.”

Dick winced. “It didn’t really end well,” he said, watching warily as Fred added some saline to the purple goo.

“You can’t win them all,” Fred said, swirling the bag around to mix it. “My cousin got lucky, was on vacation when Bludhaven got nuked. But hey, maybe you’ll be better at being a superhero once you get your abilities.”

Dick snorted at that. As if Lex Luthor would be benevolent enough to just let him go after paying so much for his capture. Fred seemed like a decent human though. One that might even be persuaded to let Nightwing go if things got desperate enough. In the meantime, Dick decided to see how persuadable Fred could be.

“I’m really hungry,” Dick said, giving his best impression of sad puppy eyes. “I haven’t had anything to eat since last night, you don’t happen to have a candy bar or something around, do you, Fred?”

“Sorry, dude,” Fred said, removing one of Dick’s gloves, and wiping the back of his hand with alcohol. “It’s for your own safety. Some people have a violent reaction to these solutions, don’t want you to choke on your own vomit.”

Dick’s eyes widened, and he futily pulled against the restraints. It finally sunk in that this was really happening, and they might turn him into a meta or permanently injure him trying. “I don’t want this,” Dick said, thrashing his body around as much as he could manage.

“C’mon, it’’ll be cool,” Fred said, trying to sound persuasive. “It only hurts for a little while, when it’s over. Usually. If all your genes activate with the first solution, you won’t have to go through this again.”

Dick shook his head and continued struggling. Fred sighed, and texted someone on his phone. “I’ll have to have Anne help hold you down then,” Fred said looking apologetic. “So you don’t hurt yourself.”

Anne entered the room a few minutes later and said nothing, just efficiently tightened the straps and added more, until Dick could barely move, and pressed down on his hand while Fred slipped the needle into a vein and taped it down.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Fred asked as he attached the bag of purple liquid to a pole near the table. “I’ll ask Dr. Bayer if you can have a candy bar after this is all done, what’s your favorite kind?”

Anne connected the tube from the bag to the needle in his arm, and opened a valve so the liquid started creeping down the tube, slowly approaching his arm. All Dick could do was stare in horror.

Dick felt vaguely guilty about making Fred and Anne’s jobs more difficult for them, but that quickly stopped when the liquid started moving into his veins. It was slow-moving, but burning hot, like molten lava, and it felt like his body temperature was rising, until all he could think about was the burning pain in his hand, then his arm, and scream and cry as it spread.


	4. Chapter 4

“Always a pleasure doing business with a professional,” Dr. Bayer said as he electronically transferred the funds to one of Deathstroke’s accounts.

Slade grunted in approval. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, and had no doubt the doctor wanted a blood and tissue sample or two, but was too intimidated to ask. That was the way Slade liked it. Better to have people fear you than take advantage. Grayson was too soft, too caring, but he’d learn eventually, and maybe this whole experience would toughen him up a bit. Though the incident in Bludhaven hadn’t, so it was hard to tell.

“Do you want to watch?” Dr. Bayer asked, bouncing excitedly on his toes, and pointing to the feed from one of the security cameras. “Sometimes there’s a physical manifestation of the gene being activated, even with the suppression collar.”

Slade paused, there was a pretty good chance he’d be hired again at some point by Bayer or Luthor, most likely to recapture Grayson when he inevitably escaped. Understanding what the process had been like, and what powers the hero ended up with would probably be useful. He inclined his head, and stepped closer, to observe the screen.

Grayson was still strapped down on the table, and purple liquid dripped into an IV needle in the back of his hand. His face was pinched in agony, and he thrashed around as much as the straps allowed.

“That’s our oldest formulation,” Dr. Bayer explained. “It’s one of the safest, and pretty good at activating genes that probably would have activated on their own eventually.” Grayson appeared to be screaming and crying, but unfortunately there was no sound. “I think he has some kind of accelerated healing factor that’s been partially activated, I wanted to finish activating it first before I moved to the nastier treatments.”

Slade chuckled. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy watching very much. Almost as much as he would enjoy any run-ins with Nightwing afterwards.

* * *

Tim frowned as he read the incoming message from one of his acquaintances on the dark web. He was 90% sure that the contact was an undercover NSA employee keeping an eye on criminal activity, but the man had access to good information, and was often wiling to pass it along. Usually.

_Have you heard anything about Nightwing lately? Last I heard, Deathstroke took the contract, and there haven’t been any reported Nightwing sightings since then_.

It was true. Tim had texted Dick over the past three days, and received no response. He felt a lump building in his throat. He should have insisted on Bruce driving to New York to pick Dick up the second Tim found out all the details of the contract. Not that Dick would have agreed, Bruce probably would have had to kidnap him to get him to stay at the Manor. Tim let out a small strangled half laugh half sob at the thought.

“What are you going on about, Drake?” Damian asked, scowling from the doorway.

“I, uh, I think Deathstroke might have captured Dick for someone who wants to experiment on him,” Tim stammered.

Damian’s frown deepened. “Then we will find him instead of sitting around and making ridiculous noises. I will inform father that we should begin searching for him.” Then Damian turned on his heel and left quickly as he had arrived.

Tim was startled for a moment, then stood up quickly to follow Damian out of the room. The first thing they needed to do was make sure everyone else and Bruce were on the right page about what had happened to Dick. 

* * *

Dick felt terrible when he woke up. At some point he must have passed out from the pain, for which he was grateful, but it was disorienting to suddenly be in a plain white cell, with no furnishings aside from the cot he was laid out on, and a bucket by the door. He felt as though he had been electrocuted by his escrima while getting a beat-down from Two-Face and Blockbuster at the same time. Dick tried to push himself to his feet, but the room seemed to spin, and he fell back onto the cot. He laid there, panting, trying to remember and figure out what had happened.

Dick felt along the material of his suit, but there were no bumps or ridges anywhere, no obvious signs of change, at least for now, and he allowed himself a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been turned into a giant monster, so at least there was hope he could escape before that happened.

Something Fred had said nagged at the back of his mind. What if he was able to become a better superhero by activating his meta genes? Didn’t Dick owe it to the people he might save if that was the case? There was no easy answer, and there was also the possibility he might get _worse_ at fighting crime depending on what genes were activated. Dick grumbled to himself, and tried to get comfortable on the thin cot as he let his fatigue overtake him and drifted off to sleep.

When Dick awoke the next time, there was a tray by the door with a few slices of bread, and a bowl of broth. He scrunched up his nose at the meal – definitely not the candy bar he’d been promised, but he knew he had to eat to keep up his strength, so he shakily walked over and picked up the tray. He was surprised how hungry he was once he started eating, and quickly finished all the food, stomach still growling as he searched for any crumbs he might have missed on the tray.

There was still no sight of his captors, and Dick found himself growing impatient. “Hey,” he yelled, wincing at how hollow his voice sounded in the empty cell. “Can I get more food? It looks like your science experiment didn’t work, so probably time to admit I’m not a meta and let me go.” Dick doubted it would be so easy, but it never hurt to try. And at the very least, maybe he would annoy his captors into making an appearance. “Do you have a place where I could leave supervillain evil lab reviews? 0/5, would not recommend, the food was terrible, the experiment didn’t work, and the service was non-existant.”

It was only a short time later that Dr. Bayer made an appearance at the front of his cell. He looked smug, in a way Dick was sure didn’t bode well for him. “Anne, secure him,” Dr. Bayer demanded, all the while gazing at Dick, with an amount of interest that just couldn’t be healthy.

Anne said nothing, but entered the cell and quickly cuffed Dick’s wrist to the cot, holding a taser where he could see it, and leaving the threat unspoken.

“I won’t cause any trouble,” Dick said eyeing the taser. There was no point in causing trouble right now, not until he could strategically get into a better position to escape.

“Good choice,” Bayer said condescendingly. “Since you are behaving, you can have one answer, or you can have your mask back,” Bayer said, dangling it in front of him.

Dick bit his lip in thought. He did want answers, but he wasn’t likely to get useful information, and on the other hand having his mask back was essential, especially if anyone visited or he managed to escape, though he had his doubts about them letting him keep it. Dick held his hand out.

Bayer chuckled and dropped the mask into Dick’s outstretched hand. “You’ll have even more reason to keep your identity secret once your meta genes activate, I suppose. Now, pull the sleeve of your suit up.”

Dick scowled, but complied, ignoring the pinch of a needle as Anne took a blood sample.

“No two metas are the same,” Dr. Bayer continued, apparently enjoying the sound of his own voice. “Which is why we’ll have to evaluate your progress after every session, and plan the next step accordingly. You really are fortunate you have me to do that for you, rather than just waiting on it to happen naturally, or having those hacks at the Court of Owls try.”

That was a lot to unpack, and Dick decided to ignore it for now.

“Now, let’s see how you did,” he said, and grandiosely pushed a button that deactivated the collar.

There was nothing, and Dick snorted after a while. “Guess I’m not a-”

“These things aren’t always visible,” Bayer said, holding out a hand as Anne handed him a scalpel. Then he grabbed Dick’s wrist, and sliced his forearm open lengthwise.

Dick yelped at the stinging pain, mostly out of surprise, as he watched blood well up out of the cut. Then, after a moment, much too quickly, the blood began to stop and clot.

Dr Bayer looked disappointed, grumbling something about “genes activating much to slowly,” and stomped out of the room. Anne scrambled to clean up and follow after him, locking the cell as she left.

Dick could only stare at his skin as the giant gash healed way too quickly to be natural.


	5. Chapter 5

It was boring being stuck in an empty cell with nothing to do but wait for his captors to return again, all alone and trying not to think too much about the healed gash on his arm that meant he wasn’t quite human any more. Maybe Bruce would let it slide though, if the only power that Dick had was accelerated healing, he might still be allowed to work with the other bats. Or if not, Dick could still be Nightwing on his own, he already had for years. He frowned, and tried to imagine whether or not Bruce would actually take steps to stop him, and if he’d be able to. Bruce had benched him in the past for health and safety reasons, but he wouldn’t do that now, would he? Would things have turned out better in Bludhaven if Bruce had stepped in when Dick was clearly not doing well and put a stop to the whole shitshow?

Dick decided he was not a fan of being left alone with his thoughts.

“Hey,” Dick yelled. “Are you trying to bore me into agreeing to be your science project again? The answer is still no by the way.” Dick paused, trying to decide whether or not being strapped down to the lab table again would be worse than being left completely alone for an indefinite amount of time. It would be a hard decision if it was offered.

After a few more hours of counting ceiling tiles, Dick thought back to the disgruntled look Dr. Bayer had the last time he’d seen him. “Are my genes not changing fast enough? Maybe if you’d feed me more, it’d work better. I’m not picky, I’ll eat pizza, donuts, cereal, ramen, any food you have, really.” Dick’s mouth watered as he thought of all the other meals he’d enjoyed in the past. What he wouldn’t give to be back at Bludhaven PD with Amy, stuffing his face with donuts and coffee while she complained about him being too much of a stereotype, or back at the manor with Tim and Damian, sneaking some of Alfred’s cookies fresh from the oven, while Alfred frowned and lectured them about eating their vegetables before they filled up on sweets. But he always did make them another batch.

After what seemed like another eternity, Fred showed up outside Dick’s cell with a food tray and an apologetic look on his face. “I know this might not be what you want, but Dr. Bayer said we have to restrict your calorie intake between sessions.”

Dick groaned as he looked at the tray of broth with anemic noodles, and assorted vegetables. He was grateful to finally get food after so long, and his stomach grumbled in agreement, but it was still disappointing to not get much. And while it was true that Dick often went without eating on his own, when he was too busy or tired, it was a lot different from having food forcibly withheld.

“What even are these noodles?” Dick grumbled as he started on his soup. Mostly because he finally had a person to talk to, and wasn’t about to put the opportunity to waste.

“They’re kelp noodles, actually,” Fred said, looking pleased with himself. “I can get you more if you’re still hungry later.”

The noodles were clear and mostly tasteless, not something Dick would normally eat, but still were _something_ to eat. “Can’t you get me a bacon cheeseburger or something?” Dick asked between bites, seeing how far he could push his luck. 

“Well, uh, Dr. Bayer didn’t want to take any chances, since there’s been a few subjects who had stomach issues during the process.”

“Most of the metas I know eat more than humans,” Dick complained as he picked through the vegetables on his plate.

“It’s for your own safety really,” Fred said, looking as if he genuinely believed the words. “And we might have to run part of the next test if Luthor shows up this afternoon.”

Dick straightened up at that, beyond grateful that he had his mask back. He knew Lex was funding this whole place, but he thought the man would stay out of it, for plausible deniability later on. “Luthor?” he asked.

Fred looked as though he had said too much, then scuttled off down the hall.

“Great,” Dick grumbled as he finished his small meal. Now that the pain in his stomach had abated somewhat, he started to realize that it really had been a long time since he’d showered. Weren’t the bad guys supposed to take care of things like that? At least now he could think about how much he wanted to take a shower instead of letting his mind drift to other things.

* * *

“Are you enjoying your stay, Nightwing?” Lex leered from the doorway of Dick’s cell. Anne and Fred were already in the cell, tasers ready. Dr. Bayer was hovering around Luthor like a sycophant, animatedly explaining something about genes and expression. Mercy stood silently by Lex’s side, watching everything carefully.

“Not really,” Dick replied, adjusting his collar and grimacing pointedly. “There’s no entertainment, no facilities, and I’ve had better food when Ra’s kept me in his dungeon. I’d give you no more than half a star out of five, as far as evil supervillain lairs go.”

“This isn’t a luxury resort, Nightwing,” Lex said with a smile that had too much teeth to be friendly. “You haven’t even been tortured yet, don’t be so ungrateful.”

Dick shrugged. “You could always have me transferred to one of your resorts. I like the one in Florida,” he said, trying to imagine what it would be like to stay at one of Lex’s Luxury resorts as the man’s guest. He’d only stayed once before, as part of a case, but lounging on the beach when Lex knew he was there would probably feel a lot different.

“Transferred?” Lex said with a mocking tone in his voice. “Oh, don’t worry, you will be transferred as soon as my scientist is done with you. I’d say you owe me a lot, Nightwing, considering how much I paid for you, and for some of the most expensive experimental medication money can buy.”

Dick rolled his eyes and tried not to let Lex’s words get to him. “Yeah, I don’t think I owe you anything for being kidnapped, sorry.”

“But what you think doesn’t matter,” Lex said, gesturing to his bodyguard, Mercy who left his side and stepped into the cell. “What matters is I’m in charge now, and I think I need to test out your accelerated healing a little now.”

Dick’s heart sunk as Mercy stood in front of him, expression blank. This was probably going to suck a lot. “Did you spend 10 million just to turn me into a punching bag for your bodyguard?” Dick couldn’t help asking. “Because that seems a little excessive, even for you.”

Lex smiled. “Mercy, begin. Don’t bother holding back, I want to see how well his abilities work.”

Dick didn’t even have time for another quip before he was gasping for breath, the wind knocked out of him from a swift kick. Then the side of his head was slammed against the wall with a sickening crunch, and Dick didn’t even want to think about how many bones he heard crunching when Mercy grabbed his hand and twisted his arm. Hopefully he’d heal.

“I’m surprised you’re not doing this yourself, Lex,” Dick managed after catching his breath. “Or do you prefer to watch?”

Lex held up a hand and Mercy paused, blood dripping from her hands. Something dangerous glinted in his eyes as he entered the cell. He grabbed a fistful of Dick’s hair, and pulled hard, yanking him up to a seated position.

“Or maybe,” Dick said, as blood dripped from his nose, and he could feel it slowing and healing faster than it should, which just added to the pain, but it wasn’t enough to interfere with his quips. “You just don’t want to get bloodstains on your suit. It looks expensive,” Dick said, eying the Armani suit, “and getting bloodstains out is always such a pain.”

“One day you’re going to learn when to keep your mouth shut,” Lex said, tightening his grip in Dick’s hair. “But until then, I’m going to have _so_ much fun teaching you.” He let go of Dick’s hair, only to backhand him viciously.

“You know, that’s the lesson all the bad guys always say they’re going to teach me,” Dick said as he felt his mouth fill with blood. “Never seemed to stick though.” He spit a gob of bloody saliva at Lex’s pants, and watched with satisfaction as it left a streak as it dripped down.

Lex let out a mean chuckle as he stood up and stepped back, brushing at the blood on his pants. “All the better for you to finally learn,” he said, turning to his bodyguard and raising an eyebrow. “Mercy, continue. Don’t stop until Nightwing is unconscious.”

* * *

When Dick regained consciousness, he had a horrible pounding headache, and found he was strapped to the lab table again, in the little room of horrible things in the freezer. He groaned, wondering if they were moving on to the next part of the experiment for Lex’s entertainment.

“Hey, I don’t know about you,” Dick said as he glanced uneasily around the room, “but I could really go for a shower and a cheeseburger.” Anne and Fred were in the room, getting a packet of ice-blue goop ready in an IV bag. Luthor and Bayer were nowhere to be found, likely watching like creeps. “Where’d everyone else go?” Dick asked. “I thought this was the main event.”

“Don’t worry, they’re watching,” Fred muttered, confirming Dick’s suspicions as he rolled up the sleeve on Dick’s suit and began cleaning his inner elbow with an alcohol wipe.

“You know, I appreciate the effort,” Dick said as Fred frowned and used another wipe. “But I really think it’ll take less time if you just let me have a shower. At the rate you’re going it’ll take until the end of the day before I’m clean.”

“Yeah, you do stink,” Fred agreed as he secured Dick’s forearm with a smaller strap.

“Rude,” Dick said, trying move as much as the restraints would allow as Anne approached with the IV bag and needle. “Hey is that needle bigger than the other one? It looks bigger.”

“Yeah, this one moves a lot slower,” Fred said as he attached the bag to a pole above the table.

“Why’d you have to wait until I was conscious?” Dick complained as he felt the needle slide into his arm.

“Try to relax,” Fred said as he opened a value and the blue liquid slid slowly down the tube. Then he and Anne left the room, leaving Dick alone again.

Nothing seemed to happen for the next few minutes, except that the needle still felt icy cold, colder than usual. Dick shivered, resolving not to let Lex know whether this affected him or not. “Hey Lex,” he shouted. “Sorry this isn’t entertaining, but this really is one of your most boring nefarious plots.”

The cold seemed to spread slowly from the needle, and Dick soon found he couldn’t contain his shivering. “Hey, can I get a hot chocolate?” Dick shouted. “It’s really getting cold in here. A hot donut would be nice too. Or any type of pastry really, I’m not picky.”

There was still no reply, and Dick felt himself getting colder and colder, until his inner elbow was a prickly icy burning center of pain. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out as the cold slowly spread.


End file.
